


King of Night Vision

by Missy



Category: Army of Darkness (1992), Evil Dead (Movies), Evil Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bodyswap, Canon Related, F/M, Future Fic, Humor, Idfic, Second Chances, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 12:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4435460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ash gets a chance to live his life over and avoid an ignominious death.  </p><p>But you know the fates aren't going to make it that easy for him, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning of this fic includes some mild spoilers for an alternate version of events in Ash vs Evil Dead. You won't really need them to enjoy the story, but beware of similarities.

Dying sucks.

It blew bad enough the first couple of times when it was just a trial run but this? This fucking blows about as bad as the line he’s stuck waiting in just to see the Big Guy. Or gal. Ash isn’t entirely sure on the concept yet.

He’s rubber-stamped in by a bored-looking secretary with a flaming halo and a mouthful of gum. “Any questions?” it asks. 

“Yeah,” he says, “did you have to take me while I was on the john?”

“You’ll have to ask management,” it says, wings vibrating, and Ash is shoved aside for the next case.

*** 

He expected someplace whiter. Maybe a couple of angels singing him to his eternal flight. More gold chrome and polish. But nope; instead he’s sitting in a plush office listening to his guardian angel tell him that he’d lead quite a life. An interesting, but very checkered one.

“It’s a very close case, Mister Williams,” she said. 

Ash took a moment to chew her words over before making a suggestion. “So let’s even out the playing field. 

“Are you asking me to send you back?”

He said, “there’s a chance I’ll screw up, but there’s also a chance I’ll do great,” he said. “All I need is one clear shot.”

She snorted. “It’s not that easy. It’s never that easy – but if you’d like to try….”

He shrugged. “Why not? I’ve got an eternity to kill. Might as well make it interesting.”

Angels work very quickly. He barely felt the intense weight of his descent – opened his eyes and found himself staring at a familiar wall in a familiar castle. But the form he’d taken was not his younger, stronger self. The sensation was confirmed by the sudden appearance of a blue-dressed girl in the doorway.

“Lady Sheila?” she addressed him. “Arthur’s men are approaching.”

 _The hell?_ he thought. “I will…I mean, I shall be down soon,” he said, the music of his tone an odd little greeting to his eardrum.

Then, picking up her skirts, the Lady Sheila made haste for the bailey outside of her window.

****

He had no idea what this girl’s name was, so he mentally nicknamed her ‘sally mctitsalot’. Sally was bustling her way down to the courtyard, leaving Ash to catch up, cursing under his breath as she tried not to trip over her own toes. The parade of victorious Brits were filling the courtyard, and the peasants were happily waving them on. Ash tried to dodge hands and blandishments as he tried to find himself among the chained prisoners of Henry’s kingdom. 

Ignoring Arthur’s shouts, he zeroed in on his own handsome mug. He had to admit he looked pretty good under all of that dirt and dust. For a so-called slave, that was.

He reached…well, himself…in record time. Tried to seize his hair good and hard to make it look good. But his own eyes glared back at him, and they seemed brighter and even more intelligent than ever. “What. Did. Ye. Do.”

Ash pulled back. “Long story, explain later, don’t scratch the gun.”

She did a pretty decent version of his speech, too. Didn’t have quite the same panache, but hey, who did?


	2. Chapter 2

Anyway, they didn’t have time to talk alone together until she sat down to work on his hand and he found himself trying to stitch a simple line in thick muslin with a bone needle. It was clear that we couldn’t keep going without each other’s help, so I sort of sidled up to her and said, “you’ve gotta ratchet the tension up. Otherwise the whole thing’ll fall apart.”

She glared at the tools before her. “I suppose this’d be one of thy ‘things with molecular structure,’ she said, mock-loftily. 

“Yeah, basically,” he said to her shoulder. 

“I suppose I should listen to thee and very carefully assemble the pieces,” she continued.

“Yeah, well – of course. Otherwise I don’t end up with a hand.”

Those fingers - the fingers that were his, the ones that he knew better than anything – tugged at the edge of the metal jointpins holding together the gauntlet. Ash felt his mouth go dry as Sheila calmly and almost artfully pulled the pins free, causing the gauntlet to fall apart.

“You little pain in the….”

She batted her eyes. “Didst I do wrong?”

He glowered. “You know exactly what thou did..st.”

“Oh. Perhaps I shall do better if you tell me what you did to cause me to waken in your body.”

“Hell, you think I know?! One minute I’m…” Toast, he remembers, then switches tactics, “somewhere else. I blinked and suddenly I had tits!”

“Must you be crude even now?” she asked. “Please try to apply thought to the moment, Ashley.”

“Don’t call me Ashley!” he grumbled, trying to cross his legs. How the hell could she stand all of these stupid layers? He tugged on his bodice and half a chesticle popped free. He stared stupidly at himself. Well, huh. That’s what those looked like from up there.

“Must ye stare like a slack-jawed jackanape!?”


End file.
